Yesterday, Jeremy and I went out for brunch and ran some errands. Not a strange event to do on a Saturday afternoon in Vegas. Apparently, all the bizarros of Las Vegas decided it was going to be their day to go out as well.
It started at the restaurant. It was a great local bagel cafe. In fact, that is what it was called: the Bagel Cafe. Very tasty food, and, all in all, pretty much regular people. Then walked in Old Lady Vegas and her, I am guessing, husband. She was approximately 1000 years old with shorty curly old lady hair. What made her super was her floral 1980's dress with lacey white stockings and bright blue high heeled sandals. She had an oxygen tank, and tubes running into her nose, and talked like she was straight out of a New Jersey mob flick.
While we waited in line at the register, there was a tiny father and daughter purchasing something from the deli and wanting to get a refund on a 1/4 pound of liver they had purchased 3 weeks prior. The manager told them that he couldn't refund them since they never complained. The teeny man said he didn't know he should.
What?? Had he never shopped or eaten anywhere EVER? It was as if the process of sending something back or calling to complain was totally foreign.
Yes, restaurant waitress, I would like a refund of $10,000 for a large purchase I made a year ago but didn't like. May I expect a check in the mail?
But it gets better. As we drove home from Lowe's to buy some hose that we chose, (Blows, dose, rows, foes, woes...) we saw a woman with a do unlike any other. Jeremy said, "look at her hair!" I thought she was wearing one of those fuzzy Russian hats, because her hair was square and about 3 inches above her head. It even came down to form ear flaps and a neck barrier. She was also smoking a Virginia slim, or one of the 8 inch long super skinny cigarettes that little old ladies smoke while playing the slots. She wore a little tight tank top, and I could find no signs of a bra. She hustled across the street because apparently she had to buy some car radio supplies...urgently.
With all the style I saw over the weekend, how could we be anywhere else but Vegas. Home sweet home.
